Send Me To Mars With Party Supplies Before Next August 5th

reblog if you love women

Had a dream where mini golf was added to the Olympics. And one of the Olympic mini golf athletes lost the gold because she hit the windmill.

And she tweets with a picture of the windmill and the caption “bout to go through my Don Quixote phase” and honestly I think that’s the funniest thing my brain has ever come up with.

Yes.

I almost feel bad for all the fools who fell into my "Say aye for Sigma" trap y'all getting rekt in like 5 minutes lmao

(@fruitpunchsamurai16 is it bad I don't feel any remorse of what I am about to do-)

I keep finding people reposting this book I made on different social media platforms so I figure I might as well post it here myself so I can get my meaningless tumblr points too

Just to be clear I am NOT sorry. I truly believe that the world needed this

Process vids on IG/TT/YT @ starlitbindery if watching 1 min videos of books getting rebound is your thing

Ok ok ok I'm getting emotional. Lemme be corny for a minute..they had an Indian spiderman. A whole superhero who is INDIAN. Not a sidekick. Not a tech guy. A hero. Who does hero things!!! And is unabashedly, whole heartedly desi. His world is desi without being tragedy porn. Like yes show us Bombay traffic! Show us ads for zomato!!! And aunty ke saath shaam ki chai! Show us people pilled on a scooter with no regard for safety!!! Pavitr Prabhakar is amazing and I love him with my entire little desi heart.

a ryan bergara biography

Royai supremacy.

OH MY GOD ROYAI IS JUST EJFJRBFIRMSKDK

THEY'RE SO IN SYNC AND MORSE CODES AND PERSONAL COMMUNICATION METHODS AND CODED MESSAGES THEY EXPECT THE OTHER TO UNDERSTAND (and they do) AND THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND EVEN THE FURHER KNOWS THAT HAWKEYE'S THE MOST EFFECTIVE HOSTAGE AGAINST MUSTANG AND I JUST-

my heart😭😭

@fruitpunchsamurai16

Holy shit, oh my god! 50 of them??

every year I post this meme and every year people get more mad at me than they did the previous year

“i. when my blood spilled down the temple steps, were you glad? when my wedding robes dripped scarlet, did you regret it, or did you smile, as the beat of my heart soared and sputtered and then stopped? as i bled out on your altar stone? was it worth it? ii. when your poets told my mother i died willingly, did you force yourself into believing it? old man, when they said a deer was sent to take my place, did you remember the way i bled out in front of you, or did you imagine a doe’s eyes and hooves made for running? did you imagine anything at all? iii. when you won your war, did you think of me then? when the streets filled with crimson, heavy as monsoon rain, did you think of my sacrifice, my life, laid down at your feet? did your men hold a vigil? do you even remember? iv. father, i do. father, i remember everything. father, i remember the way my eyes felt heavier with each wine-red drop. i remember the way your armies cheered as i lay dying, as the wind lifted the sails of your ships, and i was forgotten. father, i did not die willingly. father, the dead do not forget. father, i am waiting.”

— iphigenia, vengeful | m.c.p